The Predator's Edge
by Hawkmoore
Summary: Ludwig and Ivan are two lonley boys when they meet for the first time. Soon, their friendship blooms and festers into something hazardous. They each have a hatred of their lives and plan to change everything, through destruction and terror.
1. Chapter 1

March 23, 1996

Tomorrow would finally be the day! The day he escaped! Ludwig could hardly keep still in the line. Currently, he was in a gas station, waiting to buy a magazine. It wasn't for him, of course. Gossipy things like that never really grasped his attention for long, although the ladies seemed into it. He did glance at the cover. It seemed apparent that a scientist created a new guaranteed weight loss pill. It didn't really surprise the boy; Father was always pressing for the ladies to look as thin as possible for the strange men who wandered in and out as they pleased.

Finally, his turn came to be at the front of the line. The cashier gave Ludwig an uncertain look before shrugging and telling him the price. The boy grinned widely, grabbing fistfuls of pennies and dimes and nickels from his pockets and reaching up to put them on the counter with a satisfying clank. The others in line groaned when the cashier began to count until the required amount came along.

With magazine in hand, Ludwig burst through the door of the gas station, blitzing through the street. He ran as fast as his short legs could carry him, dodging the cars buzzing past. He received a great deal of honks and tall fingers, but he ignored them, not concerned one bit. Right now he was on a mission: to get home and deliver the magazine.

Soon, the crowded streets became quieter, thinning out to only the occasional car passing. The marvelous lights and flashing cameras also dissipated. Tourists wouldn't dare come this far out of town, so only locals prowled the street. Everyone knew everyone, greeting each other with a nod or a glance over the shoulder. Most of the buildings were abandoned or being used as a little chemistry lab (as his mother told him), but Ludwig wasn't so sure. Sections of crumbling bricks and cement crumbling was a common sight so one had to be careful not to stray too close to a suspicious looking wall, or it might just come crashing down upon you. A few people found that out the hard way.

A group of regulars sat on the porch step, chatting quietly and nibbling on potato chips (probably from a dumpster). They were all dressed in a similar style to Ludwig- worn out clothing two sizes too big or two sizes too small, all hand-me-downs. They watch the boy as he came closer to them.

"Hey Ludwig." one paused his chewing, "Why you runnin'?" Everyone knew there was nothing special going on, ever, so why could he be in such a rush?

The boy smiled, slowing his pace to a jog, "I'm doing an errand for one of the ladies!" he waved the magazine to prove it. They gave him approving nods and waved him on, continuing to eat.

Ludwig sped up again, not sparing another moment. The group did that to everyone who passed on foot- just to make sure no tourists came this direction. They couldn't afford to have any outsiders endangering everyone's businesses they ran in these abandoned buildings. If a suspicious character showed up, they would alert everyone and hide.

At the end of the street, a building much bigger awaited him. It towered above the others, watching. Some say it used to be a manufacturing place of some kind, but no one was quite sure. The walls were sprayed in graffiti and pictures—symbols meaning certain things, but he had yet to learn what exactly. A smoky haze drifted lazily out of the smashed windows and doorway. There to greet him was one of the ladies.

"Hey, Ludwig!" she gave a comical wave, rings glittering in the low light from in inside. Like many of the ladies, she wore next to nothing, only little outfits and skirts and high heels was all the boy ever saw them wear. She wore heavily makeup complete with blush, liner, lipstick and foundation to conceal the worn out face underneath and to divvy up her appearance for the next customer, "Did you get my magazine?"

Ludwig held up the papers triumphantly, "I most certainly did!" he waved it in front of her face. It was slightly crumpled from him clutching it so hard while running, but other that, it wasn't in bad shape. The woman thanked him and produced a five dollar bill from her cleaving and pressed it into his hand, taking the magazine.

The inside of the building was just as sorry as the outside. Mold and other unsightly things overrun the place long ago, but no one was going to fix it in the near future. Trash littered the stairs, flattened over time from the constant traffic, but for Ludwig, it was a normal sight. If one day all the filth was gone, he wouldn't have the courage to use the steps; they would look so weird!

The hall on the second floor was lined with doors, always almost always in use. The boy had to be sure to go in the right room, or he would face trouble with Father for "disturbing the ladies at work", as he called it. Fourth door on the left was his room. It actually was pretty nice compared to the others. It was complete with a fifteen year old mattress on the floor with a desk, chest of drawers, and a lamp since the bulb for the overhead light burnt out last year. He clicked on the light and began to work.

Immediately, the boy went to the dresser, pulling out a jar he kept behind his one other shirt, pants, socks, and underclothes. Nobody knew he had it, and he didn't intend to tell anyone. If Father knew he had it, it would be taken away and the money used for cheap booze or the little crystals he often saw the man carrying around. He thought it was sugar at first, but then he witnessed a group of men melting it on spoon or piece of aluminum and sucking in the fumes through a straw. Sugar isn't supposed to be used that way!

He plopped down on the mattress and emptied the jar's contents. He'd been saving his money ever since he was old enough to run errands for the ladies. They gave him a dollar here, and nickel there, to run and get things from the convenient store. It was never very much but Ludwig didn't complain. In fact, the five he received earlier must have been a Godsend. He counted carefully, methodically, making neat little stacks and piles of coins and bills.

$87.28. He counted again. $87.28. And again. $87. 28. Yes! He could make his escape in the morning while most of the ladies were sleeping. He thrust his fist in the air, letting a squeal of excitement escape his lips, which he stopped immediately. If he makes too much noise, Father would see why he was so loud and find all of his hard earned cash. He had to keep quiet.

As silently as he could manage, Ludwig put the money back in the jar and returned it back to original place in the chest. He combed his blonde locks with his fingers and slipped into bed, pulling the thin sheet up to his chin. _Tomorrow would be the day!_ He grinned to himself, gripping the cloth. He didn't suspect to get any sleep that night, so he was content with watching the ceiling until the morning hours.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note

Thanks for the faves, everyone! I never expected the first chapter to get very many!

Warning: domestic abuse, alcohol consumption by a minor, mentions of child abuse.

Human names used! Country names used later on.

Ivan is about 14 years old.

March 23, 1996

Of course, when he had to walk home, it rained. It always seemed that way; bad luck just happened to favor him over all other possible candidates. The wind whipped and howled against his face, soaking through the thin cloth of his coat, running electricity up and down his spine.

Stray cats and street-born puppies hid under his neighbor's car. Only when the weather was bad did they seemed to put aside their fighting and tolerate each other's presence. He almost wished he could join them and fall asleep, listening to the pitter-patter of rain droplets on the hood.

Ivan turned the corner, cutting across the brown grass to the porch. The house wasn't in its best shape. Most of the shingles from the roof had fallen off long ago and the paint chipped and sun bleached. He had to peel away his dripping coat, grimacing at the feel. As for his other clothes, he would have to wait till he was in the sanctity of his own room until he could even dream of being dry, after his homework was completed. Hopefully his papers weren't dissolved by now.

Before he even entered the house, screams could be heard from the kitchen. Ivan had no doubt that his parents were fighting over the alcohol supply, like they do almost every afternoon and into the late evening. Even for his above-average size, the young teenager could be quiet if he so desired. Sneaking past the kitchen entrance was a daily task. Even so, he had to be careful.

Bottles of all sizes and colors littered the sides of the hall, swept to the side, but not thrown away. On a clear day, light poured through the windows, illuminating every nook and cranny with dancing shapes upon the walls—a sea of beauty in this unbeautiful home. Alcohol assaulted his nostrils, leaving a sour tingle on his tongue and making his eyes water. He would think one would be used to the tingling and ghastly smells, but entering and reentering his home never failed to make him sick to his stomach.

He glanced around the corner of the hall to the kitchen. There they were, fighting like yesterday and the day before that and the day before even that. Each had bruised peppering their faces and arms and throats—blue, black, and purple decorating their already discolored skin. Ivan tiptoed past them, keeping a careful eye on the pair. His room was just two doors past the kitchen, so it was not a great distance to sneak, but yelling could still be heard through the thin plaster.

Ivan tried to keep his room clean, but the bottles and trash was unavoidable in any part of the house. A creaking and rusty bed frame with sorry couching served as his bed and a flimsy piece of wood elevated by soggy cardboard boxes served as his desk. A small woven basket which served as his dresser sat in the far corner next to his church shoes.

He dropped his school bag on his bed and sat on his molding chair, proceeding to pull out his rain-smeared homework. Sighing, he set them out on his blanket to let them dry. While doing so, his door creaked. However, he didn't fret. There was no sound of heavy boots stomping their way up towards him, nor hands to clutch his throat. Instead, little heels tapped over to him. A little girl about 6 or 7 years of age plopped down on the floor next to Ivan. She wrapped her tiny arms around his leg, squeezing as tight as a child could manage. A little white dress with blue ruffled adorned her tiny frame while a pair of tiny shoes pinched her toes and chafed her ankles to make them red and itchy.

The teen smiled slightly, stroking her long, blonde hair. He was fond of his little sister, how could he not be? She was small and cute, a little disagreeable at times, but cute nonetheless. She slowly began to release his leg when the yelling from the kitchen grew quiet. This made them both look at the bedroom door, confused.

Again, the door creaked open. It was their older sister, Katyusha, back from work. She was covered from head to boot in mud. Her overalls worn and discolored were almost falling apart and her short hair in a frenzy. She also wore a faded pink scarf that surprisingly wasn't dirty at all, just wet. Katyusha earned money by tending to the gardens and greenhouse of the hospice ten minutes away. Often at times, she was gone for several hours in a single shift. Katyusha was the family's only source of income so their parents tried not to fight when she came home—after all, if the carrying this "family" wasn't feeling well, how else would they get booze?

Gardening was her only skill. The father of the household refused to send her to classes, claiming that "women didn't need to be educated". The same goes with their younger sister; she spends her days at home, in the room she and her older sister share, hiding under the bed or locked in the closet for hours upon end.

"I'm back, Ivan, Natalia." Katyusha's voice bright, but her face weary and voice cracking. She held up a small basket she took to work with her, "I brought food." She placed it on the floor before sitting down herself, motioning for her siblings to join her. They did and held out their hands. The basket held an assortment of vegetables and fruit bright in color and plump as could be. This would definitely be a treat for them—when the hospice had an abundance of their food, they gave what they did not need to Katyusha, a blessing for them all.

The silence is pure bliss for the aching ears of the siblings. Only crunching of the crisp vegetables and fruit echoed off the walls. Little Natalia crammed fistfuls of strawberries into her mouth and reached for the carrots, biting off the stray roots with her teeth and spitting them out onto the floor. Katyusha said nothing about her manners only giving her a glance and worked on her zucchini and squash. As for Ivan, he preferred the tomatoes and blueberries, which he got to himself; his sisters didn't have a taste for them.

Pretty soon the basket was empty, save for mud and little greenery. Little Natalia's dress was now a smeary mess, which she didn't even seem to notice. Their older sister sighed, "Natalia, look what you did to your dress." she pointed it out, "Let's clean you up." she pulled up their youngest sibling and sat the girl upon her hip. Katyusha looked her brother, smiling at him, before picking up the basket and exiting the room. Once again, Ivan was alone with only the rain for company.

For several moments he simply stayed there, on the filthy floor, eyes closed, listening. He wasn't exactly sure what he was listening for, but his mind searched for something –anything—which might provide him comfort from his current predicament. Like all the other times he searched, he found nothing, only the thick, suffocating smell of mildew and the tapping of water on the roof.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, finding only his room. He blinked sever times and crawled across the ground to the corner by his bed frame. A board had been loose for years and Ivan made it a habit to hide his things under it, in a shoebox. He wriggled the wood back and forth until he could pull it loose. He briefly took the lid off the box, counting the dollar bills and coins quickly as possible. It was around the range of 300 dollars or so, but Ivan didn't want to have his money exposed for too long. He put the lid back on the box and replaced the board to its original spot. It wasn't enough to live off of, but it would do.

Suddenly, the screaming started all over again. What prompted this fight was beyond Ivan. Usually the fights were about how much alcohol one or the other consumed on a daily basis, or that one has to go out and get a job because Katyusha's income wasn't enough. Of course, neither would go out looking for a job anyway.

The noise rattled in the boy's skull, making his brain hurt. _Too much noise. Too much noise_. He flattened his palms against the sides of his head. Slowly, he rocked himself on his heels and brought his knees to his chest, creating a swaying movement with his whole body. This tended to help him relax in times of stress; stress liked to wear and tear on his body, already causing him to stay home from school because he was so sick. Occasionally, he would even have a seizure.

His burning forehead touched the wall as he rocked on his heels, the moist plaster left him feeling a little better, but it still wasn't enough. And then, it was only his mother screaming, howling as bottles crashed (probably on the back of her head) and then would fall to the floor. Ivan could see the events unfold in his mind. Father is drunk and looks for any excuse to become violent. Mother did something to prompt him—at least in his father's mind.

Ivan always told himself he was better than his father—that he would never end up like him. A haze of doubt always clouded his vision, however, and the teenager always saw more and more of his father in him. Like now, as Ivan reached for the bottle under his bed, the tears began to form. He didn't enjoy drinking as much as he enjoyed forgetting what happened which caused him to drink. He managed to sneak a few bottles of cheap liquor into his room earlier in the week and he intended to drink until he fell asleep.

The burning sensation from the alcohol caused him to choke momentarily, beating his chest with his fist in the attempt to cough it up. After the first bottle, Ivan could feel the burning no longer and was able to down a second and a third drink easily. _Okay,_ he kicked the bottle with his foot, _No more tonight._ His legs didn't seem to be listening to him at the moment so the teenager was content with sleeping right there, on the floor, up against the wall, the rain lulling him to sleep.

Author's Note

Awww, poor Ivan!

I meant to have this chapter out days ago, but clumsy me fell on my head so now I have a concussion. I need to stay away from stairs…

Next chapter is finally when Ivan and Ludwig meet! Happy times!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note

Yay! The third chapter is finally here! This switches back and forth between Ludwig and Ivan in the beginning as they get ready to run.

Warning: None for this chapter

Humans names used! Country names used later on.

March 24, 1996

In the early dawn, before the sun rose from its deep slumber, Ludwig hurled his blanket from his mattress. His whole being shook with anticipation. The day was here! Today would be the final chapter in his life in the Ladies' House. He could see it now: one day he would be famous and come back for his family and they would live in a big house all to themselves with a pool and a healthy supply of food in the pantry.

Ivan's eyes stung when he woke. The tears hadn't stopped flowing as he could recall. Then again, the alcohol he consumed the night before made his head feel slightly fuzzy, but only slightly. He didn't really want to get up, but he couldn't stand the sound of the house any longer. The silence made him feel asphyxiated and his muscles ached.

Grabbing a plastic bag, Ludwig grabbed all he could carry with him without looking too suspicious on the streets. There wasn't much he had anyway other than a pair of socks, an extra shirt, pants, and underwear. He used to have more things but they'd disappeared, now probably sold by his father or stolen by one of the other boys. He slipped his jar of money into the bag next, giving it a satisfying shake. Sneaking past the ladies would be easy, since most of them are asleep at this hour. He merely skipped down the stairs, humming to himself as his shoes crunched on the trash and glass littering the concrete.

The teenager yawned. The sun had yet to rise so it was way too early for any activity is Ivan's opinion. However, this would be his only opportunity to run away. He felt sluggish and tired, yet his body acted on its own, emptying his school bag and stuffing his clothes into it. Next the money from under his floorboard in the corner of his bedroom came next, along with a flashlight and pocket knife also hidden. He gave a final glance inside his room, sniffing. Surely he wouldn't miss this place. He knew he wouldn't.

"Hey, Ludwig!" a crisp voice called.

_Oh, no. _Ludwig quickened his strides, but tried not to run. A boy even younger than he came sprinting up to him. Why he was even up this early left Ludwig aloof. The little boy was albino; his red eyes seemed to glow and his pail shin was extremely sensitive so the light so he rarely went into direct sunlight and his hair was nearly white.

"Hey, Gilbert." the older said flatly. His brother was rather annoying, always raving about how "amazing" or "awesome" he was. Really, did everyone need to hear the same speech all the time?

"Where are you going?" Gilbert reached for Ludwig's bag, almost touching it before it was snatched away. He pouted to himself. He was too awesome not to know what his big bro was doing and he intended to find out, "Where are you going?" he repeated.

Ludwig breathed deeply. Calm down, you don't have to lie, but you don't have to tell the truth and that's exactly what he did, "I'm going out for a little while. I'll be back, though." he turned to his brother. Like him, his clothes were almost entirely strings barely holding on together.

Gilbert cocked his head to the side, "When are you coming back?" he was skeptical of his older brother's story but he didn't say so.

The preteen shrugged, "I don't know." and he really didn't.

"What are you doing up this early?"

Ivan didn't want to turn around so he didn't. His focus was currently on their little pantry, trying to find anything edible that wasn't expired or teeming with mold. So far he unsuccessful, "You should know." he whispered.

For some time, Katyusha had her suspicions about her brother's intent on escaping this institution. She couldn't seem to find the words, however, and merely turned to the kitchen. She began opening the cabinets and finally found a small box of crackers and a package of dried fruit. It wasn't much, but she put them in her brother's school bag. He zipped it quickly and made his way to the front door, pausing when his hand gripped the knob. Uncertain feelings rose up in his throat and his mouth felt dry suddenly, "Katyusha," he didn't face her, "I just wanted to thank you for helping the family all these years. I just wanted to let you know." he flung open the door and stepped onto the porch. This was it. He was going to take the biggest step in his life.

"Hang on, Ivan!" she nearly shouted, rushing to him. Her hands flew to her neck, untwisting her faded pink scarf before pressing it to his chest.

"But, sister, this is your favorite scarf." he hesitated at first but took it anyway, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. It was still soft after all these years of wear and tear. He lifted it to his face, rubbing it on his cheek. It smelt like her too- sweet with an earthy quality like grass or dirt.

His sister merely shook her head, "I want you to have it. Please remember us, Ivan. No matter what happens, remember Natalia and I." tears began to form in the corners of her blue eyes. This surprised her brother, who had never seen her cry. He couldn't help but reaching out to her, wrapping his long arms around her shoulders, pressing her body into his. She returned the embrace around his back. Ivan put his cheek on her head. Katyusha was nearly 23 years old, yet her brother was already so many heads taller so she could only bury her face in the crook of his arm. Ivan wished they could stand there forever, swaying to and fro with his big sister, yet he had previous engagements which couldn't be postponed.

Ludwig's stomach ached. He should have tried to find something to eat before leaving but who's complaining? The subway was surprisingly quiet and few people were on board at this hour. Most of them were business men in pin striped suites, reading a newspaper or going through their phone. The boy tried to sit as far from them as he could to avoid conversation with them about the location of his guardian. He didn't think he could explain that he ran away without being turned in.

The only other person closest to him was another boy on the other side of the aisle. He was pulling at a piece of dried fruit with his front teeth, his mind seemingly elsewhere. He could have easily been mistaken for a man; he was enormous. His arms and legs thick and his neck like a tree trunk, hidden with a comically long scarf. Ludwig couldn't help but stare at the food between his fingers. His stomach groaned at him and made bile rise up in his throat.

After what seemed like hours, the other "boy" looked up from his shoes, his expression virtually unreadable, "Would you like some?" he held out the plastic package of fruit. Ludwig looked at him closely. He was much, much larger than him in height, thickness and weight. His face was round as if he still had his baby fat and his eyes were a deep purple with a shiny gloss quality to it.

"Yeah!" Ludwig hopped onto the seat next to his new acquaintance. He held out both his hands in front of him, grinning hopefully.

A jab of pain struck Ivan in the chest. He couldn't help but think of how he and his little sister would do the same thing when Katyusha came home with food. He tried to dismiss the feeling, however, it didn't seem to pass. He grabbed a fistful of the fruit from the bag and handed it to the smaller boy. Quickly, he assessed the other, taking in his ratty clothes, grimy and discolored. The boy was thin, but he seemed content with his current status.

Ivan had been watching him most of the subway ride; the boy would swing his legs and hum to himself, looking out the window (not as if there was anything to see) and things of that sort.

He wasn't completely sure what to make of this boy. No doubt he was from a low income family and didn't eat much, if anything. Ivan didn't want to necessarily ask where he came from but he finally mustered up a conversation starter, "So," he began, searching for the right words, "You from around here?" It was all he could think of.

"No," It was an automatic answer, "I'm running away." Ludwig was giddy to tell people, but he had to be wary. This new person seemed to be trustworthy; after all, he gave him food, which rarely anyone did where he was from. The stranger didn't seem to react to his answer at first, but slowly, a smile stretched his lips.

"And why's that?" he crossed his legs, resting his hand on his hand, elbow placed on knee. This boy peaked his interest immediately.

Ludwig didn't hesitate, telling the stranger everything about the Ladies and his father's business and the abandoned building where this took place. He went into detail about his escape and of his plans to become famous one day by being a circus performer and go back to his mother and father so they could live with him in their new house.

Ivan listened to the boy's plans. They were childish and definitely not well thought out, but he stayed silent until Ludwig was finished. _So he was doing this for the sake of his parents?_ Ivan wondered to himself, leaning back on the sticky plastic seat. His intentions were so pure they almost sickened the teenager. He wasn't entirely certain why, but his stomach twisted at the likelihood of this boy's dreams actually coming true.

"So, why are _you_ here so early?" Ludwig inquired of the other after his story finished. He scooted closer to his new companion, listening carefully. The other stiffened at this, but he didn't shy away.

Ivan felt sick. His throat became sticky and nausea overcame him. However, he felt the need to tell something to this boy, in return for the other's story. He swallowed thickly, "I'm running away also." The subway screeched as the breaks were applied. They had to lean the opposite way so they wouldn't fall over when their ride came to a halt. The lights flicked on and the doors slid open. Ivan stood quickly, making his way to the nearest exit. He didn't even know if this was the right stop, but he dad to get out of there. He had to get to the surface, to breath in the fresh air and keep away from the damp atmosphere of the underground.

The smaller boy follow relentlessly behind, demanding answers. Ivan's fingers itched so he shoved his hands into his pockets, ducking his head as he exited the cart. The station was mostly full of business men and other people heading off to work. They chatted amongst themselves quite loudly and the scent of coffee and cigarettes rang like a bell. Ivan crouched, trying to make himself smaller as he ran through the crowd.

"Wait up!" little Ludwig trotted behind, managing to snag the end of the other's scarf to keep the pace.

Ivan glanced behind him to the smaller boy. _Why won't he just leave me be?_ Now it was inevitable; he was stuck with Ludwig. Maybe he could lose him in the city or in the mall. Either way, this was going to be a long trip.

Author's Note

Sorry this came out so late! I had to take a trip to the capital for the week. It was fun but there's nothing like being back home.

The next chapter is going to be the bog turning point in their relationship, where Ivan will realize Ludwig's potential at being… not a little innocent boy.

Also, I'm currently working on two other fan fictions, if anyone is interested. One is a romantic America/Japan fic and the other is a Russia/Lithuania fic, which I'm not sure if it will turn romantic or not.

I will try to update every week if I have time, so be on the lookout for another chapter either with The Predator's Edge or one of the other stories I'm working on. Thank you all for being patient!


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note

I'm back! It's been waaaaaaayyyy too long since I last updated because I'm been so busy lately and have had no time to post anything, but I finally managed to finish the next chapter. Also, I posted the first chapter of a new fanfic (America x Japan) the other week so feel free to check that out.

Warnings: Terroristic thoughts and intentions

Human names used! Country names used later on.

Page break Page break Page break Page break Page break Page break Page break Page break Page break

The damp night air brought some relief to Ivan, but not much. The little innocent Ludwig still clung onto his precious scarf, laughing when they dodged the bystanders in the subway. He made Ivan feel sick to his stomach and a tingling sensation rose from the back of his throat, but he couldn't vomit.

Ivan didn't like it when others touched him—except his sisters. He felt like he would spread the disease of misfortune and misery to anyone else who came in contact with him. His sisters already shared the same fate as he, so why bother keeping from them? This boy on the other hand—he was too pure for Ivan's taste, but they had already touched, which meant that he would soon become just like Ivan. The older boy felt a little sick knowing that.

Above the subway station, on the outside, not many were in the streets. A bum with a faded newspaper blanket snored quietly on the bench with peeling red paint. A tan- skinned saxophone player swayed under a neon light near the entrance to a pub, the yellow glow reflecting off his skin while long, low notes echoed in the empty air.

What looked like old shops and buildings now were falling to pieces, crumpling under the weight of their own failure. This looked like it might have one time been a place overrun by the tourist industry, but it slowly died over time. They couldn't be sure, but one thing stood out to the boys. One thing which somehow maintained its beauty: A fountain.

It wasn't gigantic, yet it wasn't tiny either. It was shiny and dark and in a circular shape and flowing with sparkling blue water. It depicted a person in robed in the center of the fountain. This person was standing with its arms extended to the sky while the water sprung from the eyes. Ivan couldn't find any other source of water flowing, so the "tears" appeared to be the only thing proving a constant flow. Other figures were on the sides of the fountain, just as shiny as the middle person. These ones held jars and bowls, dipping them into the tears to collect a drink—or that's how it appeared to be.

Ludwig finally let go of his new friend's scarf, preferring to sit of the side of the fountain. His eyes widened as he looked upon them with curiosity. Ivan couldn't help but smile slightly; maybe his evil touch didn't taint him after all. He joined the other on the cold marble, groaning as his joints creaked beneath his weight. Ivan was growing too fast for his liking and his joints didn't seem to be catching up.

"Who knew that such a pretty fountain would be in a not-so-pretty place?" Ludwig spoke up, reaching his hand in the water when something caught his eye. It was small and shiny and in a circle. He reached for it, grasping it between his fingers.

Ivan extended his arms forward, attempting to relieve his aching bones of the pressure. He squinted his eyes, trying to focus on anything other than the pain radiating from his body. He knew it would eventually subside when fully grown, but he wanted it to stop already. Attempting to distract himself, he looked around more. No doubt the crumbling structures of the buildings would provide a hovel for rats and insects and the old, matted papers on the walls were rotting and falling apart around the tape.

Something particular grasped attention. Ivan stood grunting at his knees and went to it. What he saw was an old flier for Bill Clinton when he ran for office. The paper itself was not yellow with age and wrinkled from rain, "This is disgusting." He muttered. He wasn't talking about the mold or the stains or the remains of cockroaches smashed on the walls.

"I found a dime!" Ludwig shouted, skipping to Ivan. He paused when he saw the older boy staring at the poster. He looked to Ivan's face, but found nothing in his blank expression, "What's wrong?"

"_This_," Ivan prodded the flier with his nail, grimacing when the paper dissolved on his finger.

The younger stepped closer to his newest friend, standing on his toes to see what he was referring to, "The president? What about his?"

How could he explain his thoughts to such an innocent little one? Surly he wouldn't understand, "Well…" Ivan searched for the words. However, unable to find them, he found his way to the bench, plopping down on the splintering wood, "It's disgusting because the fact of the matter is no matter who is elected, the country never gets any better. It might be okay for the rich, but for the people all the way down at our level, things never change." He thought about his words. Yes, he was correct. All this time change didn't happen for him and his sisters. They were still living in the hellhole they called home. He felt guilty knowing that he left them there, but he had to. If all three of them were to run off, then their parents would alert the police. He couldn't have that happening.

Ludwig stayed by the poster, watching it as if it would move any second, "Our level?" he didn't quite understand. He always thought he was fine the way he lived. Sure, the Ladies House was a little dirty, but he didn't really see a problem. Suddenly, a thought hit him. What if he'd been wrong all this time? Had he been so miserable that he didn't even realize how miserable he really was? He glanced over to Ivan. Suddenly, he could see the dark circles under his eyes, the filthy clothes, his aloof eyes. Everything was apparent to him now, "You're right." he whispered. Before he knew it, his hands were ripping at the molding poster.

The older boy watched the other with a little sadness in his gut. His touch _had_ tainted Ludwig. Now there was no turning back. The world had to change, starting now, "Yes, and I think I know how to fix everything."

Ludwig turned to him, wiping the soggy papers on his pants, "How?" now he wanted to know.

"Obviously, our minds aren't clouded by the idiocracy of this country." He thought and thought. There was no way that either one of them would ever get elected for president, and even if he did, he wouldn't get full freedom which he desired. He could only see one way he could think of that would really change the country, "We'll kill the president." he took a deep breath, "And rule everything ourselves."

Ludwig didn't respond at first, only listened to the saxophonist play softly in the background, "Let's do it."

Ivan was sure of it now, his touch dirtied the soul of this little boy.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note

I've been so busy lately that I almost forgot to post this!

Warnings: terroristic thoughts and intentions.

Country names are finally used in this one.

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(5 years later)** September 11, 2001**

The television woke Ludwig up from his slumber. His back ached from the pathetic excuse for a couch, the springs pressing against him. He inhaled deeply, taking in the heavy air, "Turn down the TV." He commanded quietly, "Trying to sleep." The apartment was not the best, but it was only temporary. Only one bed was available so he slept on the couch in the living room. This place reminded Ludwig of his old life—molding, rotten, and trashy. His eyes stayed open the whole night, watching the door for his Mother or Father to come in the apartment.

A hand touched his shoulder, gently shaking. Ludwig tried to ignore Ivan as he began to shove him harder. His voice never seemed to hold onto its sing-song quality and remained high pitched for a grown man, "You should watch this." He spoke softly, sitting by his friend's feet on the couch. He didn't get much sleep either. A particular dream kept him in a constant switch from slumber to awake, not letting him fully rest. He dreamt he was drowning in a sea of wine. Red swirling his vision, choking him until he was wretched from sleep, gasping for air. He tried not to show his fear to the nothingness in the room, but he couldn't help but let a single stray tear escape.

"What?" Ludwig was clearly annoyed, rolling over to face the television. He'd been having mood swings lately as his body took shape-growing taller, more muscled. His voice was also much deeper than even Ivan's was. He lost his childish disposition and became more serious, always planning and plotting for the destruction on the United States along with his friend.

They would never forget that day for as long as they lived, "The twin towers fell." Ivan leaned closer to the screen, elbows on his knees, hands folded as if praying. He'd been watching the news for the past few hours, witnessing the buildings melt away and crumble. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but his stomach bubbled in anticipation.

"_What?"_ the other repeated, sitting up, brows furrowed. Just as Ivan said, the TV was broadcasting the towers as they died. He became silent, only absorbing what was happening. They stayed like that for the whole day, eyes glued to the screen. The smoke rose like a creature howling to the heavens as fire devoured the building. If one looked close enough, you could pick out people jumping from the windows, sparing themselves from a fiery fate. Civilians crowded the streets, screaming for their loved ones and sobbing while the police force fought to keep them back from the madness.

Why hadn't _they_ thought of that? Ivan wondered silently, pursing his lips. Over the years they attending several inaugural addresses with the intention of assassination, but every time something went wrong: a stalled weapon, a guard standing too close, bad weather. It was as if everything under the sun was out to stop them. A strike to the ego of America was no doubt the first step they should have taken from the start. These terrorists did it and the Japanese did it in World War II with Pearl Harbor, why hadn't he thought of it?

These people now had a new identity. They were no longer only citizens or foreigners, they were more powerful than that now, "You know," Ivan began steadily, not taking his eyes off the TV, "I've been thinking-"

"You've been thinking? Wow, I didn't think you had it in ya." Ludwig smirked, leaning back into the couching.

Ivan rolled his eyes, "I think we need to abandon our old names. Ludwig and Ivan don't seem intimidating enough." He glanced to the other.

Ludwig rubbed his chin, thinking. He had a point after all; who would remember such simple names such as Ludwig and Ivan? "I guess we could, but what would we change them to?" they obviously couldn't pick any average names.

Ivan responded quickly, thinking of the answer before the question was asked, "How about other country names?" It was a good plan. They would trade their old identities for new ones which would no doubt have meaning to their new selves, "I think that Germany and Russia would be good. They _are_ known as the Fatherland and Motherland after all."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, "You mean we'd be the parents of a new nation." he reiterated.

"Bingo." Ivan smiled. Over the years they spent on the run, Ludwig always seemed to leave an impression on him, whether it be knowing how to decipher graffiti with a secret message or deciding the best coffee grounds to get for Sunday shopping, "Now since it was my idea, I call being Germany." he smiled again, more deviously this time.

The younger immediately smothered the idea, "_What?"_ he shouted in disbelief, "There is no way I'm gonna be the girl!" he tossed his pillow at Ivan, hitting him square in his overgrown nose.

This argument lasted for another ten minutes. Of course, neither wanted to be remembered as the "Mother" of the new nation so each were persistent in their level of masculinity. Finally, it came down to the flip of a coin. Ludwig stated he'd be back in a minute before scurrying off to one of his bags in the corner of the room. A few moments later, he returned with something.

"This is the dime I found in the fountain that night." he held it up between his fingers. He didn't explain which night—he didn't have to. They both clearly remembered knew the night they made the pact to rebuild the United States from the decaying state it was in. Ludwig figured it would be good luck to hold onto, "The fates led us to the same place that night, so we'll let the fates decide who is who."

Ivan nodded, agreeing. It seemed fair enough. They each held their breath as Ludwig flicked the coin into the open air with the tip of his thumb, letting it fall onto the couching between them.

"Heads!" Ivan called quickly.

"Tails!" Ludwig followed up with a scowl.

The fates made their call. Ivan groaned, leaving back onto the couch as Ludwig punched his arm lightly, "So, _Mother_," the younger mocked playfully, "Got any other bright ideas?"

"Call me Russia from now on and I'll call you Germany, okay?" Ivan sighed before moving on, "And yes, I do have another idea." he pointed to the TV, "If we want to make an impact even bigger than what these guys did, It's gonna take more people than just you and I to accomplish it."

Germany shrugged, "I guess it you want to, I mean if you think anyone would actually join our little gang." he stated and then pointed out, "We are technically labeled 'terrorists' by the government's standards."

"Hmm," Russia was only half listening, too absorbed in the thought of having a whole network of loyal people at his fingertips. Oh, the damage he could do to this country, "We'll figure out something."

"Also, I think we should have accents." Germany said matter-of-factly.

This did make the other look at him with all sorts of questions on his face, but he didn't want to crush his companion's dreams, or whatever was going on in his head, "Sure, I'll have a Russian and you can have a German." he smiled slightly. So, a small bit of the child he met all those years ago managed to escape his influential touch after all. Good to know.

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Yay another chapter! Well, aren't they just the best evil due in the world?

Next chapter: Russia has his eye on a particular person to help them in their conquest, but who could it be?


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